


A Week At Jodys

by queerabacus



Category: Supernatural, Wayward Sisters - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Coming to Terms with Loss, Dean bonding with the wayward sister characters and recovering from his grief, Dean focused, Grief/Mourning, Parental Bonding, Post 12x23, Psychics, Rated T for language, Recovery, Sibling Bonding, Texting, Written before the episode aired, everyone knows, family help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerabacus/pseuds/queerabacus
Summary: After Dean nearly gets seriously hurt on a hunt, Sam decides the grief of losing Cas is too much for his brother to deal with, and ships him off to Jodys' house for a week until he finishes the case.Dean thinks it's all bullshit, and that he can still hunt, but he doesn't see what everyone else sees - that he desperately needs to deal with this grief. Jody has her plans, and Claire plans to avoid him at all costs.[A fic where Dean goes to Jody's house to recover from his grief. Canon-compliant post 2x23. Includes everyone from Wayward Sisters!]





	1. Monday

“I’ll be back in a week, Dean.” Sam reminds him a little sharply, pushing Dean through Jody’s door and tucking the lock pick back into his pocket. “Stay here until then.”

 

“This is so unnecessary, Sam. I can still hunt!” Dean spreads his arms to emphasize his point, but stumbles slightly and has to balance on the door frame to right himself. Sam gives him a pitiful look.

 

“Right. Back in a week.” And then Jodys’ door is slammed in his face to his protests.

 

Dean fumes at the closed door.  _ Stupid Sam. Stupid emotions getting in the way of hunting. _ It’s not like  _ he _ knew the victim’s father was going to look like Cas with his stupid short black hair and stupid trenchcoat. 

 

His head thuds against the doorframe, trying in vain to shake those thoughts.

 

“Hey Dean-o.” Comes a familiar teenage voice from the living room. Dean pries his eyes open to see Claire lounging on Jody’s chair, eating pizza and watching TV. 

 

“Claire.” He grunts out, collapsing down onto the couch. Every bone and muscle of his aches, and it’s gotten to the point he can’t tell if his body is telling him to get up and hunt or power down manually to recharge. He’s on edge, to say the least.

 

He sinks back further into the sagging couch.

 

There’s a telenova playing on the TV, complete with dramatic zoom-ins and over exaggerated movements. Dean feels exhausted even looking at it. He zones out, the bright colours that used to be fun to watch as a guilty pleasure with Bobby now hurting his ears and eyes.

 

Instead he rests his eyes on where Claire is sitting with her legs swung over the chair’s arms, holding a plate that was (failing) to catch the pizza crumbs. Deans’ breath catches, and he can’t look away.

 

The way her bright blue eyes were caught on the moving actions, focused and intent, reminded him so clearly of Cas. He remembers walking into Sam’s room a couple of times to find him and Cas there, watching a documentary on something smart. He recalls how Cas would laugh at Sam’s comments, the shadow in the doorway catching his eye. He’d smile at Dean, who would roll his eyes back but take his place on the bed beside him all the same, Sam in his chair. Idiot cared about his back too much to watch TV in bed.

 

And so what, if most of the time he ended up watching Cas’ changing profile more than the fucking rocks documentary? Rocks would hang around for a long time, but he never knew for sure how long Cas would stay with them. 

 

“Wow. You must have picked up Cas’ bad habits.” Claire snorts, taking another bite of her pizza, startling Dean out of his musings.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re staring.” Claire points out, not taking her eyes off the drama.

 

Dean was going to break it gently. He truly was. But his thoughts are swirling and darting, mixing Cas’ face with Claire’s. He can’t focus on anything - except that Claire  _ didn’t know _ . 

 

“Cas is dead.”

 

Claire slows down her eating.

 

In Dean’s head, he thinks that there would be silence after his statement, but there’s still noise. The telenovela's ending credits are scrolling to it’s jarring music, dogs still bark outside, there are still cars in the distance. Nothing changes. The world doesn’t stop because he said it, and that makes him angry. Eventually, Claire turns to look at Dean, putting her plate on the coffee table.

 

“What? What do you mean he’s dead?” Her voice level, her gaze meeting his eyes.

 

“Just that. We burnt…. we burnt his body. He’s dead. Lucifer killed him.” He feels hollowed out. There’s a cavern in his chest and the words boom in his throat, aiming at Claire. It sounds fake but it’s all true. He aches.

 

Claire is silent, the sound of a new telenovela beginning in the background filling her silence. Eventually she picks up her plate again and starts to eat again, slowly. 

 

Dean’s furious. “Don’t you care? Cas died!”

 

“He killed my dad, Dean. Forgive me for not bawling my eyes out.”

 

“We talked about this Claire-” His voice keeps rising in fury, how could she not care? Cas was dead!

 

“No, you talked. I listened.” She fumes, shoving her plate aside, her eyes furious. “Castiel killed my father. And he didn’t protect me. And he killed my mother. Why should I,” Her breath catches and tears spring to her eyes. “Why should I…. care. I don’t.”

 

“Right. You don’t do caring.” Dean says, unkindly.

 

“Oh my God. He’s gone?” Claire repeats shakily, clutching the arms of Jody’s chair tightly. Nodding woodenly, Dean stares past her. Now that she knew, he feels he can retreat back into that place he was before - just letting the world slide past him.

 

“Yeah.”

 

In a movement too quick for Dean to prevent, Claire swipes out and her plate goes shattering into the wall. The noise makes Dean wince, but he doesn’t care. He’d broken more than one plate in the wake of Cas’ funeral. 

 

“What the hell Dean! I told you to look after him!” Her messy blonde hair starts falling out of her bun, and when her shaking hands catch on it, she rips the hair tie out viciously. It flies out of view.

 

Dean eyes focus in and out on the broken plate and the crying teenager that shares Cas’ face. He can’t even defend himself, not really. He’d tried to look after Cas, of course he had, but everyone thought Lucifer had been kept on the other side of the portal.

 

He’d tried bringing Cas back. He’d tried to think of anything that could bring him back - but hit a block. All the angels and demons wouldn’t answer his calls, he had nothing to bargain them. Chuck and Amara had left. Rowena was dead by Lucifer’s hands. Nothing would work. 

 

Upon realising this, Dean recalls holding Cas’ heavy head between his palms, limp and rolling. 

 

“I’m sorry, Cas.” And he had been sorry for so much. For not getting there in time. For not asking him to just fucking stay in his line of sight. For not fighting Sam harder to get him out of the portal with them. For years of miscommunication and tension that was never sorted. 

 

He had held Cas close to his chest, laying his friend’s head on his shoulder, just holding him. The sun had risen over the lakes, casting a ghastly glow of life on his dead friends’ face.

 

It had marked his first day without Cas.

 

Everything since then had been a blur for him. He’d come to awareness in the passenger seat of the Impala, or in a motel room he didn’t remember being in before, or shooting down a werewolf. It was like he was in and out of the world at his will, sinking back into nothingness after coming to for a few moments. 

 

This moment, where Claire was grabbing her hair and crying, made Dean - for the first time in a while - want to act. But that required moving and dealing with emotions. The thought made him heavy, so he didn’t get up. Claire was staring down at the broken plate, shoulders shaking with tears. The telenovela still played. 

 

Thudding footsteps echo as they round the corner.

 

“Claire! What on Earth is going on?” Jody shouts from the doorway, looking frantically from Claire to the cracked plate, and pulls her gun out when she see’s Dean on the couch. “Hey! Who are- Dean?” She sighs tensely, tucking her weapon away. “Would it kill you to knock?”

 

Claire shoulders past Jody, fists clenched. “Claire-”

 

“I need a minute.” Claire strains, and races up the stairs. Jody looks bewildered, and turns to Dean.

 

“How did you even get in? I haven’t got round to getting your keys yet.”

 

“Sam picked open the lock.”

 

“Where is he?” Jody asks, looking over her shoulder.

 

“Doing stuff. World saving stuff probably.” Something in his tone must not have been his ‘usual everything is falling apart but it’s fine’ voice because Jody spins round to him.

 

“What’s up with you? Why is Claire crying?” Jody walks towards him and her foot crunches on a broken plate. “The hell-”

 

“Jody, I …..” Dean flounders, his mouth opening with no words leaving his dry throat. Would it ever get easier to say? “Cas is dead.”

 

Jody freezes, half way bent to to pick up the broken plate. Cautiously, she continues and Dean watches her blankly until she sweeps the last pieces of ceramic onto the table. Jody rights herself, and wipes down her shirt, before flicking her wrist at Dean. Instinctively, Dean moves up the couch slightly so she has room to sit down.

 

He doesn’t look at her face, despite having been looking at it for the last five minutes whilst she was clearing. Instead he focuses on his hands that are clasped between his knees. 

 

“Claire told me about him. He was an angel who killed her father?” Jody’s voice doesn’t change in level tone, but Deans’ shoulders still tense.

 

“That’s how she remembers him. Claire’s dad was his vessel, and now Jimmy is in Heaven so Cas has an all access pass to Jimmy’s vessel.” Spelling it out like that, hurt. “He … had a vessel.” He corrects mutedly. 

 

“That wasn’t all he was to you, was he?” Jody assumed and Dean gives in, nodding.

 

“He was my best friend Jody. The bestest friend I’ve ever damn had. He’s fucked up a coupla times, but we worked past it. I trusted him with my life. With Sam’s life, even.” He huffs out a broken laugh, swiping a hand over his eyes and pressing into the sides of his nose. He couldn’t cry despite the ache racking his bones - he’d already shed his last tears into the twelfth bottle of whiskey.  

 

“He was your family.” Jody murmurs, her hand having found it’s way to lay over his. They were shaking. When did they start shaking? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. 

 

“I told him he was my brother once but … being honest, he was more than a brother to me. I don’t know how, but he was.” 

 

There’s a dull silence, Jody’s warm hand over his cold ones. He wants to be selfish, to leech all her heat away and be warm again. But he can’t do that. He can’t be selfish anymore. Selfishness lost him Cas. Reluctantly, he pulls his hands out of her grasp and leans back on the couch, folding his arms across his chest. 

 

“I’ve lost people, Dean. We all have. I’ve lost a sister before, but I’ve also lost a husband. I don’t think your grief is for losing a ‘brother’.” It takes a moment for Jody’s word to sink in, and Dean’s too tired to fight or try and defend himself anymore. He just stares up at the cracking ceiling and lets her words hang over him.

 

“You know what’s funny?” He glanced over at Jody and he gives her a weak, fake smile. “I made him a mixtape. He kept leaving so much I just wanted to … fuck, I don’t even know. Give him something. He tried to give it back to me but I made him keep it.” 

 

“Do you still have it?” Jody asks calmly. His face twists, eyes closing briefly.

 

“No. It’s probably part of some bird nest by now.”

 

Jody gives him a confused look and Dean amends.

 

“We…. we burnt his body with it. Pretty sure nature used what they could of it by now.”

 

“You seem calm about this.” She asks cautiously.

 

Dean shrugs. “I’m not. I’m really not.” Despite what all the therapists say, it doesn’t feel healing to say that. It feels like he’s unloading ten tons of shit onto a strong hunter and stressed woman who doesn’t need to deal with his bull. But he can’t stop his words.

 

“Everything feels wrong. There are times when I’m turning to call him or go to his room and have to stop and remember that he won’t be picking up - that he won’t be opening the door.” 

His throats doing that stupid thing where it gets fussy and won’t let him talk anymore. He forces past that. “We can’t bring him back. An angel getting blown away by an angel blade? That’s it.” 

 

Fuck. It’s hitting him again. No more Cas. 

 

Staggeredly, he gets to his feet and starts pacing. The same adrenaline that’s fueled every hunt after Cas’ death is beginning to rise. He feels Jody gaze on him but he can’t stop, the awful energy simmering and making his skin crawl. He wants to hunt and slash away his feelings, he wants to - like Claire - shatter a plate against a wall.

 

He gets zoned out enough that Jody startles him when she throws him a baseball bat. 

“What- what’s this?” 

 

Jody raises her eyebrows incredulously. “You’ve seen a baseball bat before, I’m sure.”

 

“I mean, why am I holding it.” Dean rolls his eyes, bouncing the bat on his hand, the energy not fading. Jody’s holding another bat in one hand, and a baseball in the other.

 

“You gonna try bat against me?” He grins tiredly, but Jody shakes her head. 

 

“I’m not. Claire is.”

 

“Claire?” Dean checks, incredulously.  “I’m probably the last person she wants to see right now.”

 

“Which is why she’ll be pitching.”

 

“What!? You wanna give the teen with a death wish against me a baseball?”

 

Jody shrugs. “Gives you a good reason to hit it away then, doesn’t it.”

 

-

 

May Turner could feel them the moment they entered the park.

 

She knew Claire Novak for a lot of reasons. She often visited Jody at work - meaning, she got taken in by the police a few times - and she was also a friend of her daughter, Patience. Claire tended to have an aura of anger, but today it seemed much more potent. It was striking in comparison to the short-haired man that May didn’t recognise.

 

Outwardly at a glance, they looked like a father and his daughter playing baseball. But even the smallest look more, you could see how frazzled the daughter looked. How heavily the world seemed to lay on the mans’ shoulders.

 

Watching them, May saw the way that the game started innocently enough. Claire would pitch the ball beautiful, and the man would hit them away just as beautifully. It only lasted moments, before the game turned sour. Claire’s aura flared hot and red, as she pelted the balls furiously at the man. Her spirit flares with shame at her actions, the rage quelled but she can feel it’s bubbling in the background. 

 

The man ends up having to defend himself against the onslaught of baseballs, holding up a hand to slow Claire’s actions. She’s breathing quickly as he heads over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and murmuring in words May can’t hear. Claire’s shame flares higher, and their sorrow rises in both of them. It’s overwhelming to May - she’d never seen a man so sad, or a daughter so lost.

 

Curiosity piqued, she heads over to them as they return the bucket of baseballs they’d rented from a stand. 

 

“Claire!” She calls, coming up behind them. She puts a hand on her tense shoulder, and sees (and feels) the man behind him square up protectively. Claire, finally looking at her face, looks even more sorrowful than May had imagined from her readings. “Oh, Claire…”

 

Without another word, Claire turns gently into her shoulder, and May holds the poor girls’ head gently. 

 

“And uh, do we know each other?” The man asks awkwardly, keeping a wary eye on May and Claire.

 

“We don’t, no. I’m May Turner, I work with Jody Mills at the police station.” The man doesn’t seem any clearer. She goes to continue, but Claire pulls back slightly to address them both.

 

“It’s fine Dean. Her daughter, Patience, is my friend.” She mumbles, not really looking at either of them. May keeps a hand on her shoulder. “She’s a psychic, and really good at reading emotions. It’s good for reading criminals in interrogations.” She wipes a hand over her nose, pulling back. “We must be giving off some crazy readings, huh. Sorry about that.”

 

“I’ve never seen you like this, Claire.” May murmurs gently, concerned for the teenager. Now she was closer to them, she could sift through their feelings a bit more. Their loss was for a dark haired man, with blue eyes. Pushing past his sorrow, May could pick out a question in his mind, and smiles at him, the name finally settling into place.

 

“Dean Winchester, right?” He nods slowly and May smiles wider. “I look familiar because Missouri was my mother.” Surprise lights up his face, and she’s amused by the thoughts his mind throws at both of them. 

 

“You knew Patience’s _ grandmother _ ?” Claire asks in confusion. “Damn, you’re older than I thought.”

 

“I didn’t even know she had children. Let alone grandkids.” Dean sounds stunned, brushing past Claire’s teasing. 

 

A thought pops into Dean’s head and May catches it before it disappears. It was brief, but the heartbreak that follows it takes her breath away.

 

It was an image of himself and the dark haired man -  _ Cas _ \- standing next to an older Claire, cradling a swaddle of cloth.

 

Dean clears his throat, side-eyeing her, catching on that she’d seen it. She straightens her face, her breathing returned to normal. “Sorry. Sometimes it’s difficult not to pick up on your thoughts.” She offers awkwardly.

 

Claire frowns between them, and an alert interrupts whatever question she might have asked. It’s from Patience, and May realises how long she’d been caught up in these two’s presence. Patience would understand, it was given in her name afterall.

 

“I have to go but Claire,” She tightens her hold on the teens shoulder. “My home is always open if you need someone to help process this with.” She waits until Claire nods, before giving her one last hug.

 

Pulling back, she turns her attention to Dean. “The offer goes for you as well. I’ve lost a wife before, I understand the pain of losing a partner.” Before he can respond, she waves them goodbye and heads home.

 

-

  
  


Evening was settling over the park, the laying sun heating the metal bench Dean and Claire were sitting on.

 

Dean watches an ice cream seller crowd the few remaining kids in the park to get his ice cream with a small wistful smile. He hates that everything still reminds him of Cas, but at least this one was a nice memory. 

 

They’d been sitting similar to how Claire and he were now - a little closer perhaps - in a different park, in a different time. There had been an ice cream truck circling the park, and Dean had noticed Cas looking at it. 

 

It turns out, Cas had been wondering if they had peanut butter and jelly ice cream. After laughing for a few moments, Dean had shook his head. He told Cas they probably didn’t, but they might be able to get something similar. Apparently, peanut butter ice cream and strawberry ice cream tasted close enough. 

 

Dean still remembers his pleased and surprised face after his first bite. And then his shock at learning that you should not  _ bite _ your ice cream.

 

He’s about to ask Claire if she wants to head home, when she speaks first.

 

“Did you tell him you loved him at least?” Claire wonders aloud. 

 

Dean doesn’t look at her, making Claire turn to him. Not knowing what to say, he shrugs. “We thought he knew. Gave him a pep-talk and everything but … no. I never did.”

 

“You dumbass.” Claire hisses, Dean glances to her. “That’s - that’s why he died!”

 

“Lucifer killed him because we didn’t tell him we loved him?” Dean spells out, frowning in confusion.

 

“No. But he wouldn’t have been in that position if you had told him you loved him.”

 

“I asked him to work with us. And he didn’t.” Dean defends, shifting restlessly.

 

“Work? Just to work with you?” Claire checks, and when Dean nods she clenches her fists. “So - this whole time - you’ve never told him you care? That you loved him? That you wanted him to stay and not do something dumb like getting killed!?”

 

It hits Dean like a bullet. “Do you think …” He can’t even comprehend the thought, but Claire’s staring at him like he’s a dumbass.

 

“Do I think he leapt in front of Lucifer because he was suicidal? Because he felt like he didn’t belong anywhere? Yes, I do.” Claire’s red in the face from her ranting, and falls back against the bench, keeping a clear distance between herself and Dean.

 

Dean stares past his feet. “Let’s get you home, Claire.”

 

“It’s  _ your _ home too. For an entire week.” Claire rolls her eyes, swiping at a stray tear that had fallen. “Great.”

 

-

 

Cooking with Jody ends up settling Dean’s mind, even just the slightest. It’s nice to use a knife other than killing for once. He even has a clear enough head to moan at Jody for bribing him to cut salad leaves in favour of pie for dessert. She reminds him that it isn’t just Claire that needs her greens.

 

“Where’s Alex?” Dean asks, just noticing the girl's absence from the table as they settle down to eat.

 

“A ‘friends’ house.” Claire teases, using air quotes. Jody slaps them down.

 

“Alex promised us he was  _ just _ a friend, so we have to respect that.” Jody clears her throat, taking a sip of wine. “I have my doubts, but I trust her to tell us when she’s ready.”

 

Not knowing the whole situation, Dean just digs into his dinner. For once, he can actually taste the grease falling off the homemade chips and hums in content.

 

It only lasts a moment though. Jody places down her wine, her hand stilling his.

 

“Now. An explanation, please, about how come you’re camping out here for a week.”

 

_ Oh _ . He really doesn’t want to talk about, now or like,  _ ever _ . Swiftly, he downs his wine.

 

“Sam and I were on a vamp case just outside of town.” Dean starts slowly, rolling the knife between his fingers. “There was … someone we had to question there who looked like uh, Cas. I couldn’t question him when we were pretending to be feds, so Sam sent me outside. We thought that would be it,” Dean shrugs, having stopped eating, lost in his retelling. “Turns out, he was the leader of the vamp nest. He was going full tilt for my neck but … I couldn’t ice him. I don’t know why.”

 

In his head he sees the vampire that was Cas’ look-a-like, pinning him down with his fangs bearing down towards him. Dean had been fighting back but he stopped. He doesn't know why. In an instant he went from wanting to save his life to giving it up. He couldn't explain it. Sam saved his ass though, taking the vamps head off. It had led to a string of uncomfortable questions that eventually Sam got the gist of it. 

 

“So, Sam thinks you’re a liability now?” Claire offers, clearly seeing that Dean was at a loss of how to explain himself.

 

“Sounds about right.” Dean agrees, glancing between Claire and Jody. Both had pitying faces, and Jody’s hand tightens briefly on his wrist. It’s too much. Clearing his throat, he pushes his chair back and quickly gets to his feet. “Excuse me.” 

 

-

 

Jody watches as Dean disappears out the back door, into their backyard. His hands come together behind his head, and he starts pacing outside. 

 

“It’s really shaken him up, hasn’t it?” She murmurs half to herself, half to Claire, who nods.

 

“Does he really have to stay a week?” Claire asks quietly, to her surprise. She thinks it over for a moment.

 

“Dean says Sam told him to stay here for a week, but it is  _ our  _ home, Claire. If he’s making you uncomfortable being here, I can set him up in a local motel or something.” It would be more difficult to keep an eye on Dean at the motel, but for Claire’s comfort, it was possible.

 

Claire twirls her fork on her plate, hesitantly. She looks over her shoulder to see Dean, now standing still, staring at the setting sun. They both pretend not to see the single tear on his cheek, before turning back to each other.

 

“No … he needs someone, that’s obvious. I’ll just keep my distance.” She sounds reluctant, but to Jody, reluctant was better than being completely against the idea.

 

“Thank you Claire. A week might not be enough for him to mourn completely, but it’s better than hunting and being distracted.” Jody couldn’t even picture Dean hunting anything larger than a fly, if this is the state he’s been in the past few weeks. 

 

“What’s your game plan?” Claire asks, a note of teasing in her voice. “Somehow I don’t think Dean’s going to be the type to draw his emotions out.”

 

Jody knows she’s poking fun at her about her way of treating kids in the station who had been through upsetting experiences, and slaps her arm lightly. 

 

“No, Dean’s a tactile person, like me. He  _ needs _ to do something, and he doesn’t want to free load here.” She gets up to start clearing plates from the table - it’s clear Dean won’t be coming back in for a while. “I’ll give him some work to do here.”

 

“So, you’re just using him for free labour?” Claire smiles, and Jody winks at her as she passes to the kitchen.

 

“Don’t tell Sam that’s why I accepted, ok?”

 

“I would never.” Claire promises, already pulling up Sam’s number on her phone under the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This work was written before Wayward Sisters actually aired. As such the characterisation of Patience and her backstory is different from that in the show.


	2. Tuesday

Claire’s padding down the stairs to get her midnight snack, when she hears the front door shut with a click. She points her phone light at the intruder, and slaps a hand to her face to stop from bursting out laughing at Alexs’ appearance.

 

Mussed hair, smudged lipstick and eyeliner? Claire gives a quiet wolf whistle. “Rough night?”

 

Alex smirks. “Yeah, you should have seen the other guy.” She makes to past Claire, but she catches her arm. 

 

“You going to cover that up?” 

 

Alex wiggles out of Claire’s grip. “Why? It’s not like Jody cares what we do.” 

 

“Yeah, but she cares that we  _ tell _ her what we’re doing it. Do you really want to have to sit through her awkward birds and bees talk again?” Claire gives Alex a pointed look, and they both shudder at the thought of the disastrous first attempt. “I dunno. It’s a trust thing.”

 

She shrugs and Alex bites her lip, running a hand gingerly over the red bruise. 

 

“I don’t know how to cover it up.” Alex looks expectantly at Claire who laughs. 

 

“You’re joking right? You’re the one who uses the most makeup out of all of us.” 

 

“I’ve never had to cover a hickey up before.” Alex looks deeply uncomfortable, and while Claire is put off by the idea of having to cover up her adoptive sisters’ hickey, she rolls her eyes and leads them to Alex’s room. 

 

“I know someone who can help.” Claire quickly dials Patiences’ number who, as she’d predicted, picks up after a few rings.

 

“Hullo?” Patience mutters, a loud yawn echoing through Alex room - Claire quickly turns down the volume.

 

“Hey, Pence, keep quiet. We got a situation here-” Claire shushes into the phone, her head shooting up when a floorboard creaks outside the room. Her heart beat slows when she hears no other sounds. 

 

“Situation? You on a hunt?” Patience asks, sounding more awake.

 

“No, no hunt. Just need some advice on how to cover up a bruise.” Claire rushes to reassure her friend, except needing to cover up a bruise didn’t sound any better.

There’s the sound of covers rustling on the other end. “You alright?”

 

She gives a quick run down of the situation, while Alex shifts awkwardly on the bed beside her.

 

“This is hilarious! Alex, who’s the lucky fella?” Patience asks, her voice expectant. Alex tenses. 

 

“No one worth mentioning.” She says, airily.

 

“Woah, woah. Do we have to beat this guy up? Was he a dick?” Patience voice goes from teasing to deadly serious, and Claire finds herself clenching the phone tighter.

 

“No, nothing like that. Just didn’t know how to kiss and kept pulling my hair.” 

 

“That’s why I stick to girls.” Patience laughs. “They know what the heck they’re doing. Now, back to this sticky-hickey situation you’ve got yourself into.”

 

Claire doesn’t move on so quickly though, looking over Alex for any larger bruises. Or if she was sitting awkwardly, in a way that meant her ribs hurt. While Alex describes the size of the bruise, Claire stealthily checks for anything more serious than a hickey. 

 

Alex shoves her shoulder slightly. “Patience says we need concealer, go get yours.”

 

“I don’t use concealer.” Claire shrugs, and Alex sighs in exasperation. “Why not use yours?”

 

“Mine ran out!” Alex hisses in frustration, pulling her hair to one side. Claire only has to mull an idea over for a few seconds, before she passes the phone to Alex.

 

“Be back in a moment.” She shoves off the bed, and carefully makes her way past Dean’s room. He had been on his phone when she’d passed him to the stairs, and they’d waved awkwardly at each other. Trying to seem normal, she peers into his room and sees he’s fallen asleep with his phone on his chest.  _ Millennials _ , she smirks, moving past to Jody’s room. 

 

Keeping close to the wall, she pushes the door so it swings wide. Peering in, Jody seems conked out and Claire spots her make up bag on the dresser. Biting her lip, she makes her move, being cautious of the creaking floor beneath her.

 

She’s sure that her thudding heart will wake Jody up in seconds, and she can barely hear anything past it’s loud beats. She pops the bag open, and spots concealer close to the top of the bag, fairly unused. 

 

Jody mutters something, rolling over onto her side. Claire stares and doesn’t take her wide eyes off her until she gets back to the door way. Closing the door, she lets out a shallow breath of relief.

“Victory!” She caws quietly, heading to Alexs’ bed where the girl in question is biting her nails anxiously. 

 

Alex snatches the concealer from her, looking at Claire thankfully. Nonchalantly, Claire nods like she didn’t nearly piss herself trying to sneak into Jody’s room. It’s not even the worse thing she’d tried to do - hell, she’d try to rob a store once - but there’s something about breaking Jody’s trust that doesn’t sit well with her.

 

She takes the phone back from Alex. “Alright Pence, time to work your magic.”

 

Patience talks them step by step into covering a hickey and Alex makes Claire check she hasn’t missed anything, before they agree it should work well enough. 

 

“Just don’t-” Patience interrupts herself with a long yawn. “Don’t, um, sleep on it. It’ll get all over the pillows if you do. Y’d have to reapply it in th-the morning.” 

 

“Thanks, Pence. You saved me from Jody’s sex talk.” Alex says gratefully, crawling into bed looking tired.

 

“Jus’ call me your lucky penny!” Patience laughs.

 

“Yeah. I’m so not calling you that.” Alex snorts, making sure her hair wasn’t lying in the concealer. 

 

Claire notes her friends slurred speech, and smiles taking the phone off loud speaker. She nods goodnight to Alex, heading to her own room.

 

“Thanks Pence. I don’t like Alex going behind Jodys’ back like that, y’know? She just wants us to be safe and know what we’re up to … it can be overbearing but it’s better than what we had before.” She holds the phone between her shoulder and her chin, tying her hair into a bun. “I don’t like Alex mistreating that.” She’s half talking to herself, and rolls her eyes when Patience answers with a snore.

 

“Goodnight to you too, sweetie.” She hangs up, crawling under her covers as the dawn peeks through her curtains. 

 

-

 

It’s a quiet breakfast of quickly cooked pancakes that morning. Alex, Claire and Jody are all on their phones and Dean gets the feeling this is an everyday occurrence. He’s content to just eat in peace, looking between the women at the table.

 

Thinking back, it’s been a while since he’s seen Alex and he appreciated the brief ‘hey’s’ they’d exchanged that morning. His eyes drift down to where her neck is exposed, and he frowns. There’s a patch of dark paste or something covering part of her neck that looked really unnatural.

 

“What’s up with your neck?” Dean blurts out, unthinkingly, garnering everyones’ attention. 

 

Alex looks startled and quickly flips her hair to cover up the patch. “Nothing’s up with it. Mind your own.”

 

Jody looks up from her phone, eyebrows raised. “What happened where?”

 

“Alex’s got this, uh-” Dean spots Alex’s wide eyed look at him too late, and drops his gaze back to his pancakes. “Uh, nothing.” It’s too late though, as Jody focuses in on Alex and peers across the table. In a quick movement, she brushes Alexs’ hair from her neck and gasps.

 

“Alex, what the hell is that!”

 

Claire looks like she’s trying to stifle a laugh meanwhile Dean is utterly lost and regretting pointing anything out. Her amused face turns uncomfortable when she looks at Jody. “Sorry Alex. The skin tone of the concealer looked the same in the dark.” She scrapes her fork along her empty plate, not looking at either of them.

 

“Concealer?” Jody frowns, looking more confused. “I thought you weren’t using concealer for a while? Giving your face a break or something?”

 

Alex shuffles, and Jody’s face clears in understanding. “I knew someone moved my makeup bag.” She leans back in her chair accusingly, looking between the guilty pair, her jaw twitching.

 

Dean just wants his pancakes to swallow him up. 

 

Sensing the tension, Claire’s the first one to push back from the table. “Well, school starts in half an hour so-”

 

“Yeah, better get going-” Alex catches on quickly, darting up the stairs in a flash.

 

Dean watches them disappear, and awkwardly clears his throat. “Kids, huh?” He tries, but when Jody gives him a dead look he ducks his head in embarrassment. “Yeah, I should also, uh-” 

 

Jody puts her head in her hands, and Dean gives her shoulder a quick squeeze before making his way to the garage. 

 

-

“C’m’here you runt-” Dean grunts, rooting around in the hood of the old red Ford car that Jody had set him loose on first. Apparently it’d been making all kinds of strange gurgling noises, and Dean had a pretty good idea of what it could be.

 

His fingers catch on a familiar pine-tree shape, and he yanks out the old dusty air freshener that had fallen into the vent. “Gotcha.” He smiles, throwing it to the ground. He takes a second to stretch his back out. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be to lean over these cars, and he takes a moment wishing that Baby was here with him. 

 

At least with Baby, he knew there were no idiots stuffing air fresheners down the vents. 

 

He pulls over an antique chair and sinks down into it with a huff, staring out past the garage doors to the streets and trees beyond. A series of familiar thoughts fall on him. The same thoughts that had been trailing him since walking away from Cas’ burning body on that pyre.

 

He could stop all this. Stop hunting. His family would stop dying, or falling into other universes with the devil. It kept happening and he could just … walk away from it all. Start a new life, like Alex and Claire had with Jody. He could get in the Impala, drive to some long forgotten town, become a mechanic and live out his life until he becomes an old elder who drowns his memories in alcohol.

 

Looking out over the open roads and trees beyond, it’s so tempting. He rubs his lips vacantly.

 

“Dean, you in here?” Jody calls from the doorway. “Grub time. Clean up and get in here.”

 

-

 

_ Dang, this needs new springs like two years ago. _ Dean thinks, tossing himself over for the third time since he’d tried to settle in. The metal is digging harshly into his back, and he sighs, preparing for a long night. Jody was a busy woman, and there wasn’t enough space in her house to put up another bed. It’s fine - not like Dean hadn’t slept on an old mattress on the floor before. At least this time he doesn’t have to share with Sam.

 

As if summoned, Deans’ phone buzzes on the floor next to him with Sam’s text tone. Dean wonders why he’s not calling, and his mind fills with the image of his brother trapped in a vampire nest.  _ This is why I should be helping you out, dammit Sammy!  _ Quickly, he throws the sheet across the bed and grabs his phone, pulling up Sam’s newest message, expecting an area code and already plotting how to snatch Jody’s car keys.

 

Sam -

_ How’s it going? Everything ok? _

 

Despite the normal question, Dean can feel the adrenaline coursing around his body. He could ignore it - serve Sam right for texting and scaring the crap out of him - but, the fear he’d felt, he knows he won’t be sleeping anytime soon. His leg bounces up and down, and Dean glares at it, annoyed at the needless anxiety. 

 

Sam _ - _

_? _

 

Dean taps into the reply bar. 

 

Dean -

_ Its alright. Jody got me fixing things. Guess she trusts me with tools more than you. Told claire, she was upset. She reminds me of him, sam. It hurts to look at her. She hasn’t even been around Cas that much but she has his habits and everything. She would beat ur ass at baseball just so you know. _

 

He’s about to add the part where the psychic - May - had read him like a book and jokingly tell Sam about ‘losing his partner’ when he freezes, re-reading his reply. If he sent this to Sam, talking about how Claire looked like Cas, then Sam would think he needs more time off hunting. And Sam would get mad if he went hunting on his own- even thinking of Sam being mad felt draining. Dean  _ needed _ to get back to hunting. He’d do this week at Jody’s, but no more than that.

 

Mind made up, he deletes his reply and replaces it.

 

Dean -

_ Am fine. Told Jody and Claire. _

 

Sam -

_ Yeah? How did Claire take it? _

 

Dean - 

_ She’s tough. She’ll be fine. _

 

He doesn’t say ‘ _ I _ won’t’, but he think it’s clear enough.

 

Dean -

_ How’s the case? _

 

Sam -

_ Got a few more leads to follow up tomorrow. We got the vamp leader, but there seems to be another smaller pack nearby. I think some of them ran away from the main pack. Probably the leader eating his kid broke their mind conditioning. _

 

Dean -

_ Be safe. Call if you need back up. _

 

Sam -

_ You got it. Night.  _

 

Dean grunts and shuffles to put his phone on the table. He closes his eyes and tries to sink back into the bleakness of sleep, but he can feel the pull of the phone next to him. He tries to resist, but his resolve crumbles in seconds. 

 

He’s done this every night since the pyre.

 

Scooping up his phone again, he goes to the messages underneath Sams’ most recent one. He scrolls right to the top and settles back against the mattress, blinking against the tired pull in his eyes. The ones right at the top are from a couple of months ago.

 

Dean -

_ Hey, just checking in.  _

 

Cas -

_ Hello Dean. _

 

Smiling sadly at the familiar words, Dean pulls the covers over his body and begins to read the messages he never got the heart to delete. He continues reading them well into the morning, until he collapses asleep - the phone falling limply beside his unconscious body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your support so far! It's been awesome! :D  
> As always, feedback makes uploads faster so I'd love to know what you think of this chapter! Teens being teens eh lol ;) How's everyone liking Patience so far? Obviously we don't know much about her so far but ... an attempt was made.
> 
> Next chapter: Donna! Confrontations! Teenagers! Parenting!


	3. Wednesday

When Dean hasn’t surfaced by the time Jody’s leaving for work, she makes her way up the stairs to the store room where they’d hastily set up a mattress for Dean. Pushing open the door, she briefly smiles at the way Dean lays sprawled out across the bed. As she’s leaning down to reach his shoulder, her foot nudges his phone. 

 

Without thinking, she goes to put the phone on the table and as she does her thumb slips across the screen, unlocking it. She’s startled to find that he’d been reading a bunch of old text messages, some dating back months, from …. Cas? 

 

“Oh Dean…” She murmurs, pity filling her voice as she looks again at the scene. Dean wasn’t sprawled - he was reaching out towards the phone, leaving a clear space on the mattress for someone else to lie down. He’d been reading his phone late into the night, if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by. 

 

Dean starts to stir so she quickly puts the phone on the side table. Jody fully intends to squeeze the truth out of Dean later. She shakes his shoulder and smiles at his sleepy protests, similar to how her son’s complaints at being woken. 

 

“C’mon big boy, you missed breakfast. I’m just waking you up before I go, so your sleep doesn’t get out of whack.” She waits for Dean to sit halfway up, before considering it a done job and leaves the room, a plan forming in her head about how to tackle this new situation.

 

-

 

Dean ambles down the stairs having heard Jody’s car pull out, and enters the kitchen to a screeching match. Unprepared for that level of noise, he rocks back on his heels slightly.

 

“Claire, stop it! I hate hearing this guy!” Alex groans, quickly filling a bag with school supplies.

 

“Some of his tips are really helpful though,” Claire laughs, following the other girl around with her phone. “Don’t drink the tap water! You could turn gay!”

 

Confused about the teens’ statement, Dean tries valiantly to ignore it as he shuffles over to the coffee machine. Claire hollers after Alex as she leaves, slamming the front door shut behind her. There isn’t much noise except whatever Claire is playing on her phone, and her occasional laughter.

 

Dean clears his throat. “How come you aren’t going in?” 

 

“My classes don’t start until later. I’ve got about an hour to kill before I head off.” Claire replies, not even looking over at him, intent on her phone.

 

“What was that you were playing earlier?” Dean questions, pouring his cup of coffee.

 

“Oh, this guy from youtube that has the same name as Alex -  _ Alex Jones _ \- he’s actually crazy. It drives Alex up the wall when I make her listen to some of it.”

 

With a thin level of interest, Dean shuffles behind her and nods. “Play me some of his stuff then.” Claire loads up a short video called a ‘compilation’ with a shouty fat man on the screen. It only has to play a few minutes, before Deans’ lip curls in distaste. He slowly stops leaning on the back of Claire’s chair, and instead looks sadly at the back of her head.

 

He had no idea this was how Claire felt about queer people. That she agreed with this terrible person. 

 

“Hey, old man? What’s up?” Claire asks, staring at him curiously. 

 

Blinking, Dean tries to come back to himself. But his heart feels like it’s buried six feet under, and Claire’s blue eyes aren’t helping. Quietly, he shakes his head at her and retreats from the kitchen. He feels so drained. He shouldn’t have expected anyone to be accepting of him, especially not Claire. 

 

Knees aching, he sinks back against the couch and stares blankly - unseeingly - past his rapidly cooling cup of coffee.

 

-

 

Time passes. Dean comes to awareness on the top of Jody’s roof to see a teenager holding up her hand against the sun on the ground below and yelling at him. 

 

“ -ello? Mister, hi! Welcome to the land of the living!” Her voice is distant but jovial. “Could you let me in? I need to grab a CD I lent Claire.” 

 

“Who are you?” Dean asks, only raising his voice enough to be heard over the cars nearby.

 

“Do I have to answer your questions three?” She laughs. “I’m Patience.”

 

The name felt familiar, and Dean mulls over where he’s heard if before as he slides back in through the hatch in the roof - he thinks he was up there fixing a loose tile.  _ Patience… May’s kid? _ He pulls open the door, and confirms his own suspicions when he sees the same nose shape and eye colour from the woman he’d met in the park.

 

“Uh, come on in then.” He notes she’s wearing a silver bracelet with a multitude of supernatural charms. It reminds him of the one Mary had a while back. Distantly, he thinks that he should go through the drill of testing her, but it seems too much right now.

 

Instead he heads to the kitchen, Patience trailing behind him. 

 

“Last I remember, we were dancing to it in here….” Patience mutters to herself, starting her search for the lost CD. Dean feels awkward waiting here not doing anything, so he speaks up.

 

“You wanna sandwich?” 

 

“Ooh, that sounds great yeah. Hit me up.” Patience agrees, not slowing her search even with the offer of food. Dean can’t relate.

 

There’s a question he’s dying to ask, but he holds his tongue, getting on with making food. It’s not really his place to ask.

 

“You’re wondering how I came into this world?” Patience guesses to Dean’s surprise. 

 

“Y-yeah, sorry. It’s just, May said she lost a wife?” Dean leaves the question hanging, not knowing more than that. It was probably possible these days with all the new technology for two ladies to have a kid, but May made the death of her wife sound recent so he didn't expect them to have a teenager.

 

“My mom made a stupid deal when she was younger. She messed around with the wrong witch and then, bam, she’s cursed with never getting to keep a lover.” She stops searching, tying her hair up. “Dang, someone really needs to get to cleaning in here. Couldn’t find an elephant if you lost it.”

 

“So…” He prompts, not knowing why he’s pushing the matter. He knows he hadn’t like anyone sticking their fingers into his family life when he was her age.

 

“Mom’s first love was my Dad. Then her second love was my Ma.” She goes on as Dean starts to wash the used knife off in the sink. “She still loves both of ‘em, even if they’re dead.”

 

Dean freezes. The words cut a little too close to the bone. Patience catches his silence and tenses.

 

“Uh… your aura tells me you’ve been through the same thing. It’s hard to switch it off sometimes.” She offers apologetically and Dean tries to shrug as normally as he can, his chest rising in shallow breaths. He feels a sudden pressing feeling on his forehead, like the beginning of a headache.

 

“There was a woman, she had a son.” Patience murmurs, and Dean sees her looking vacant, lost in thought. No, lost in  _ his _ thoughts. His mind. “And this man… you loved him… oh God, you  _ loved _ him.” She was seeing all the shit that went down with Lisa and Cas. He didn’t know this girl at all, and here she was, sinking into his brain and drowning in all the dark details of his past.

 

“Stop it!” He says gruffly, flinging the knife into the sink with a clatter. Wincing, Patience comes back to the room as the pressure closes in on his head. “Just, stop it, please.” He grips the counter top with his fingers searching for any solace at all.

 

Steps round the corner to the kitchen.

 

“Dean? Pence, what happened?” Claire asks in a concerned tone, and Dean feels her hand on his shoulder. That hurts more than he thought, after that morning with the whole homophobic guy, he didn’t really feel calm enough to look her in the eyes. He brushes her hand forcefully off his shoulder, turning away.

 

“I-I’m sorry. His thoughts were so  _ loud _ .” Patience sounds breathless, a hand on her chest. 

 

“Dean? Goddamit, Pence what did you do!” Claire asks harshly, guiding Dean to a seat that he collapses gratefully in. The tension in his head was unbearable, and he felt wooden. Unreal. Just like how unreal it had been for Patience to say those words … that he loved Cas … and how he’d never managed to say it to Cas over eight years together. 

 

What he wouldn’t give to say that now if it would make any difference. If he’d said it - maybe Claire was right. Maybe Cas wouldn’t have shoved past them to fight Lucifer. Maybe he would have trusted them more.

 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. It was too little too late.

 

“She didn’t know.” Claire assures him, a hand tight on his arm. Patience seems to have been long gone by now. “She’s new to this psychic stuff, she doesn’t know how to control it.”

 

Dean doesn’t reply. 

 

Claire keeps talking. Dean doesn’t understand everything she says, but the wave of words wash over him. Calming. Grounding. 

 

-

 

Dean pries his eyes open to see that it’s late in the evening. Huffing out a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair as he looked up at the water-stained ceiling from the mattress in his room. Perhaps it had been rude to leave Claire with no answers and get to the haven of his room, but he needed to get away from those bright eyes. 

 

There’s still a list of things he needs to do before turning in for the night. A creaky door needed oiling. The dish-water was leaking water. It would be much easier to just pull the covers’ over his head and forget the day but he had work to do. 

 

Deciding the dish-washer would be the easiest to start with, he ambles down the stairs and grabs his forgotten tool-box before heading into the kitchen. Jodys’ at the table, a bright smile on her face and her head cradled in her hands, illuminated by the laptops’ glare. 

 

“Dean! Hey Donna, look who came down.” Jody smiles, reaching out an arm to pull Dean closer. Surprised at her strength, he follows willingly and squints against the harsh light to see Donna clapping her hands happily.

 

“Aha - Jody was tellin’ me a bum was hangin’ around her house, how are ya?” Donna beams through the screen. She feels like a balm to his tender soul right now, and he crouches next to Jody to talk to them both, Jodys’ hand settling lightly on his arm.

 

“Uh, good. Yeah. Fixing some stuff for Jody while Sam works a case in town.” He takes a glance at Jody, unsure of how much Donna knew about exactly why he was here. Jody pats his shoulder before removing her hand.

 

“She knows about Cas.” She confirms, her face morphing into something Dean was beginning to recognise as her ‘mum face’. He feels strangely like his hand has been caught in a cookie jar, and he shares a look with Donna. To his surprise, she’s also gone quiet, taking sips of a milkshake. “That’s … well, I was hoping to catch you at some point to talk to you.”

 

Knees starting to hurt from crouching, Dean pulls another chair closer. He doesn’t like that look in the slightest. Jody starts moving her hands, but no words come out. Concerned, Dean looks at Donna who clears her throat as if to try and refocus her friend.

 

“I didn’t mean to pry, I really didn’t.” She starts off, eyes a little wide at the confession. “Your phone was on the floor and I accidentally unlocked it when I picked it up-”

 

“Y’know for a guy livin’ in a secret bunker you’da thought you’d be more secure.” Donna comments with a knowing look.

 

“-anyway, when I picked it up I saw the messages.” Jody gives him an expectant look, but Dean just stares blankly back at her, shaking his head slightly.

 

“My messages to Sam? Yeah, I was just asking how the hunt was goin-” Her look grows harder and Dean swallows his words, looking downwards rubbing his neck. There was no hiding from that mum look so he raises his hands in defeat. “You mean the one’s to Cas.”

 

“Grieving is never going to be easy Dean, but I really think you shouldn’t keep sending them.” 

 

“Wait - sending what? Last I heard he was just reading them.” Donna speaks up again, face closer to the screen as if watching a live tv show. Jody shakes her head, not taking her eyes of Dean.

 

“Not just reading...” She starts, leaving a silence for him to fill.

 

“I’ve been sending a message to Cas every night.” Dean admits roughly, folding his arms defensively. “It - I dunno. It helps. Why can’t I? I  _ know _ he’s not going to respond, I’m not delusional.” 

 

Donnas’ mouth pouts, looking at him with sadness and … recognition? It’s hard to reach her emotions over the scratchy video call. “I used to leave messages for Doug to read,” Her voice is low, less bubbly than her usual demeanor. “I knew he never would read or reply to them, but I really thought it was working. Cathartic.” She clears her throat, sipping more milkshake. “I only stopped when my phone broke and that’s what helped the most, really.”

 

“Being destructive?” Dean checks, not sure he was following what she was saying.

 

“I mean yeah that helped slightly but just … stopping. Not sending any more messages, not reading the old messages like if I said something there it would change anything. Moving on, helped.” Donna concludes, sitting back obviously trying to compose herself.

 

“Dean?” Jody asks, a hand reaching for his own when he hasn’t responded for a while.

 

“I don’t know how.” He struggles around an invisible hand crushing his throat, making it hard to talk. “I-I can’t just stop.”

 

“We’re not asking you to stop completely.” Jody comforts, her hand now making soothing motions over his shaking fist.

 

“Just a step at a time, in the right direction.” Donna agrees. Looking between them, Dean doesn’t know how to tell them he has no idea what the ‘right’ direction is anymore. How to tell them he’s considering just dropping it all and starting again.

 

“What were you thinking?” He asks warily. Jody puts out a hand, glancing pointedly at the pocket he keeps his phone in. He draws it out and gives it to her, a twang of panic in his heart. Was she going to break it like Donnas? His fingers itch to grab it back.

 

“Our first step - send a message here with us, and then leave your phone with me for the night.”

 

His first reaction is a resolute ‘no’. “But - what if Sam needs me for the case -”

 

“I can handle Sam and his sporadic calls better than you.” Jody states simply. “God knows I’ve had some insane panicked calls from Claire and Alex at all sorts of times. I can deal with it.” Dean holds out his hand to get the phone back, but Jody keeps it out of reach. “So you send the message and then leave the phone with me. Deal?”

 

Snatching the phone back, nervous about the height it was at, Dean grunts, “Deal.” His finger slides over the screen and he pulls up Cas’ message screen where a list of his previous messages are, uninterrupted by replies. Uneasy, he take a look at Jody and Donna. “You want me to … um, read it out loud or somethin’?”

 

“Whatever you think would help.” Donna replies.

 

Dean feels a sort of pressure with them both watching him. His other messages are lengthy and detailed but tonight he doesn’t want to draw this out any longer than needed. 

 

To: Cas

_ hey Cas, a short message today. tonight, even. another night without u and it sucks just as much as it did when u were in the bunker a few rooms away. love, your best friend x _

 

“Sent.” He says aloud, clutching the phone that much closer to his chest before placing it in Jodys’ outstretched palm. 

 

“Alright. That was really good Dean, I’m very proud of you.” Dean tenses up although he knows Jody isn’t one for hugs he still expects one. It’s kind of nice that she just pats his shoulder again. “You want to help with dinner or-?” She gestures up the stairs in the direction of his room and Dean nods tiredly.

 

“Yeah… I’m just going to turn in for the night. Thanks Jody, thanks Donna.” He turns for the door, before deciding  _ fuck it _ and wrapping his arms tight around Jody who lets out a surprised noise. He waves at Donna before heading for the stairs, knowing it wasn’t going to be an easy night without reading those messages. 

 

_ Bring on the nightmares _ , he thinks bitterly.

 

-

 

Lounging in his room, Dean hears the call for dinner through his open door and sees a flash of blonde hair cross in front of his path.

 

“Hey - Claire!” He calls out on impulse, a thought having been rattling around in his restless mind. 

 

Claire spins on her trainers, resting an arm against the door frame as she looks down at Dean on his mattress. “Uh, did you want something?”

 

Moving so he’s perched on the edge of the mattress, Dean twists his hand together. With all the shit he just sorted out with Jody and Donna, he might as well try and sort this as well. “Listen … that video that you were playing earlier-”

 

“Alex Jones?” Claire asked in confusion.

 

“Yeah, that one. You shouldn’t really play those videos even as a joke, especially if you don’t agree with the message behind it.” His voice is probing, trying to find out if she really did agree with his messages.

 

“Of course I don’t believe what he’s saying - the guy’s delusional!” Claire laughs, not really seeming to understand Deans’ point. He licks his lips and tries again. “It’s just funny to listen to.”

 

“Well the people he’s talking about, it’s not fun for us- them. Them. Not ‘fun’ for  _ them  _ to hear.” Dean blurts out, correcting himself unsubtly near the end. “Even if it’s funny for you. I wouldn’t play it around Patiences’ mum for example.” He wouldn’t want May to go through his own emotions from earlier. 

 

Claire narrows her eyes at him, mouth open about to ask something, when Jodys’ call comes up sounding more impatient.  “Claire? C’mon it’s getting cold!” Giving Dean a curious glance behind her, she hurries down the stairs leaving Dean to his restless sleep.

 

-

 

“Girls - I need your help with something.” Jody starts, tucking her knife and fork away having finished her meal.

 

“I thought Dean was doing all the helping by fixing stuff in the house?” Alex questions, not looking up from her phone. 

 

“Yeah whatever it is, our resident handy-man can handle it.” Claire snorts in agreement.

 

“I don’t think he could help on making a surprise for  _ himself _ .” Jody snorts, starting to gather the plates up. He had done so well earlier, by taking that first step and she was truly hoping that by the time Sam finished up his case he’d be in a better state of mind than when he arrived.

 

“Oh, are we throwing a party?” Alex perks up in interest, but just rolls her eyes at Jodys’ dry look. 

 

“No parties. I want you two to make him a mixtape full of songs you think he’d like, or you like even.” The girls glance at each other in confusion. “Or, a CD.” Their faces clear in understanding.

 

“Why?” Claire asks, and Jody hesitates over whether to give her true reasoning. After Dean had confessed spending so much time on a mixtape for Cas she had thought that by replacing it with something similar might help him. However, she was starting to realise that it really wasn’t the  _ mixtape _ Dean was missing on his drives.

 

“Something to help him on the road.” She brushes off smoothly.

 

“Pie could help him out on the road.” Alex suggests innocently and looking lightly annoyed that Jody would ask her to do anything. “It’s tastier and way cheaper.”

 

“Actually burning CD’s is cheaper than spending $5 on a pie.” Claire corrects. “You would just need to get the disc and download the music -” She cuts herself off at Jodys’ triumph look.

 

“I knew those headphones payed off for your music knowledge!” She hums happily. “That’s your assignment for this week and it needs to be done before he heads off next Monday.”

 

“But why?” Alex and Claire ask in exasperation.

 

“Because Dean is my friend and this doubles as your punishment for stealing my makeup.” Jody says sternly as she did with troublemakers down at the station. “I didn’t forget that.”

 

They both share a guilty look, continuing their dinner in silence whilst Jody checks her phone.

 

“He tried to parent me earlier.” Claire announces out of the blue, making Jody look up in surprise. She hadn’t thought the two had interacted at all that day.

 

“Really? Why?”

 

“Just some stupid video he didn’t approve of. I didn’t know it was making him upset.” Claire shrugs. “But it’s just a dumb video I use to tease Alex, I don’t why he was making such a big deal of it.”

 

Alex looks up gleefully. “You mean that video of that dick bag you keep playing when I have to leave? I’m so glad someone finally caught you out on that! It was annoying the hell outta me.”

 

Jody frowns. “Language, Alex. What video?”

 

Alex picks up her phone again, going to youtube and typing in the name, turning the screen so Jody can lean over and watch. It only takes a few moments before Jody pales, and covers her mouth with her hands.

 

“Claire….” She rubs her eyes tiredly. “You shouldn’t be playing these videos, and I would be very disturbed if you agreed with what he said-”

 

“Of course I don’t!” Claire defends, slamming a fist on the table. “I played it as a  _ joke _ -”

 

Jody puts out a hand to stop her. “It might have been a joke to  _ you _ , Claire, but he’s saying some very harmful things and ideology.” Stressed, she pushes a hand through her hair. “God, I can’t imagine Dean seeing this. If I had just lost Donna and someone played this to me …” She shakes her head, not even being able to fathom what kind of emotions she’d have. Overwhelmed and distressed, for sure. “Hell, I haven’t and this still makes me feel like shit.”

 

Claire seems defeated, her shoulders hunching in over her, glancing at Jody guiltily. “I didn’t realise it was that bad …”

 

Alex scoffs. “I told you it was bad! You didn’t listen to me!” 

 

Uncomfortable, Claire shrugs. “I thought I was just winding you up and you were mad at me anyway….”

 

“Are you kidding? It makes me super uncomfortable hearing that guy.”

 

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Claire asks in frustration. “I didn’t mean to make anyone upset! I thought it was funny, and obviously I was wrong, alright?”

 

Jody rubs her forehead tiredly. “Apologise to Dean tomorrow, and you get dish duty for the next week. Alex, if Claire does something like this again, please don’t just brush it off.”

 

Her ring tone for the station rings and she excuses herself to take the call. In her peripheral vision she can see Alex dart away, leaving Claire to sit in frustration at the table. Jody crosses her arms whilst on the phone, glad to see that eventually the blonde teen crosses over to the sink and grumpily pulls on her washing gloves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait lads! had a surprise holiday and then surprise building work lol. anyway i'm finishing up writing the other chapters now so be ready for when they come out! thanks a lot for waiting for this and i hoped you enjoyed the angst and jody!
> 
> Next Time: Angst! Patience! Apologises!
> 
> awesome people read, amazing people leave kudos, epic people comment <3


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